Sinatra Sinned? Nah!
by Teyerin
Summary: Command performance at Arthur's and Jack doesn't want to go.


Sinatra Sinned? Nah!!

Disclaimer: Same as before, own no part of the World of Wolf.

Author's Note: Don't ask me how/why this story came to be. Sinatra on the brain again. I don't dance; don't know how and yet… (ducking now for the lame.) Timeline follows events of Nightmares & Knots/Dreams & Strands.

"Damn it, Danielle!" Jack McCoy threw down the morning newspaper folded back to the story that irked him. "Can you just once…instead of flying off the handle?!"

She turned and gave him a look that annoyed him when they opposed each other at trial. Then, he could walk away from her, to a bar and forget about it two or three Scotches later. Now, though….

"You've got 'Wicked' on the brain, dear. I'm not Elphaba and you're not Galinda."

He shook his head. Sometimes he wondered why they married each other. Was he that addicted to divorces? "I'm just saying, do you remember what it is like to take a case for a simple reason anymore, or has everything become an out-on-the-limb crusade? Honestly-."

"Honestly," Danielle said, returning her attention to her notes, "you're just mad because we don't fight anymore." Even though she had her back to him, she knew what face he was making. "You know what I mean, Sweetie."

Jack bristled despite himself. 'Sweetie' irritated him the same way 'JJ' had and she knew it. All right, he thought. If she wanted to turn this into a verbal tennis match… "Honey," he said with over-exaggerated sweetness, "may I remind you how the long list of litigations on a limb have gone?"

With his cup of coffee in hand, he sat beside her, ignoring the shoving of papers in his direction as her attempt of 'sending off' the 'lecture' as she called it. "Matthew O'Dell, Alice Simoneli, Judge Karlin, Vance Grodie, Jacob Reese. Any of those names ring a bell? And those are the ones I can quickly recall. Give me until the end of the day and I'll have the novella."

"Judge Karlin wasn't one of my clients, Jack," she said still not looking up. "That's 80 percent accuracy. That's a C in your grade book."

"Only because the cut-off point's 83, dear, but, you're changing the subject. Is it possible to take on a case and _not _a crusade? Or am I asking a too much?"

This time Danielle put down her pen, packed away her papers and then looked him in the eye. "Is it too much to ask you to go back to where you belong?" At his silence to the cruel dagger she seldom threw at him, she continued, "I take the cases I have. I do my best by my clients. You and I will not see eye to eye on this. Not today. This guy is-."

"A gangster, a member of the mob, a money-launderer, a sleeze bag, and oh yeah, a lousy singer." Jack knew the moment the story hit the headlines that his wife would either be second or third on the short list of defense attorneys on this guy's list. It killed him to learn she was first.

Danielle clicked her tongue. "Tsk, tsk, Jack. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you hated Sinatra, too."

"He's not the one up for discussion," Jack said, positioning himself not to get cornered in this argument. "Mullinato can't be trusted. That's all there is to it." There. He said the key thing that angered and worried him. With Danielle, he didn't have to offer too many details beyond that.

Jack pushed himself up and away from the table. "What do you want for dinner tonight?"

"We have plans, remember?" Danielle loved her husband, forgave his selective memory to a point, and today wasn't that point. "Arthur's-."

"Do we have to go?" Jack asked, no groaned. "Those gatherings are so pointless and empty and….boring."

Danielle laughed quietly to herself. That was the exact same reason he had given for any and every formal gathering pertaining to the folks who frequented Hogan Place. As much as he hated such things, she loved them. Oh, not having to cook for a night was one reason. Observing folks outside of the workplace was another. Had she not felt passionate about defending the accused, she could see a lucrative career in fiction writing.

But, the real reason she enjoyed gathering such as Arthur Branch's was the opportunity to dance. She _loved_ to dance. If only her husband felt the same way.

"Jack…." She said.

"I won't dance."

Danielle ignored him as she went to their bedroom and pulled out the tux she had picked up the day before, not trusting him to do it. "Remember to shave."

"Don't ask me," he said, waving his hands once in front of him in a 'that's-final' gesture. She didn't need to tell him to shave. He did that daily, his loathing of beards something he doubted would go away anytime soon. Well, no, his daughter was making progress with her case for wanting to see her father with a beard just once…

"And could you leave work _on time_ this time?" Danielle asked knowing lateness was never an issue with him. Once he had his routine, he stuck to it unless she made a request and he obliged her, lovingly. Part of that routine meant staying an hour later than he needed to on campus to talk with students, but, that was his nature.

"Why should I?" he said with the slightest affirmative nod only she and Erin recognized.

"And you won't forget-."

"How could I?" he said pointing to the wine he bought to bring as a gift to the Branches. Jack bit back a smart-aleck remark. Danielle did have a heart of gold and it didn't bode well to tarnish it before the workday began with a sarcastic remark. Oh, she knew how to deal them out and he knew how to ignore them. But, she had her limits as far as early morning 'fights' were concerned.

As much as his wife was 'on her game' she was off, too. He'd gotten away with at least four lines without her saying anything. Usually, when they played the 'name that tune' game – mostly with Broadway tunes if not standards – she'd get it by the end of the first phrase.

"You're charming and you're gentle, dear," she said pulling him into an embrace. "Especially, if you'll do the-."

Jack kissed her then shook his head vehemently. "I won't dance." They walked together to the front door, arms around each other's waist before Danielle stole one last kiss. "Don't work too hard," he told her. "I won't, either," he said before she could say the same.

-------

Nora Levin looked up from her pile of papers. She and Jack shared an office, and thankfully, the same instruction schedule at the university. That gave them relative common time to visit when they weren't advising students. She glanced first at the clock then her friend. "You're…late." Jack gave her a look that said, 'Don't ask.' Nora chuckled. "You and Danielle have a fight?"

"No," he said.

"Right," she said. "You're going to Arthur's dinner party." It wasn't a question because she already knew the answer, had always known the answer to such formal dinner party gatherings since Jack got married.

"Yes," he said reluctantly.

She smiled nodding. "You owe me a dance," she said. Even before she took the job at Hogan Place to be reunited with her friend, she knew Jack was a good dancer. It humored her how often he tried almost anything to avoid it all together now.

--------

Danielle held her husband back before they got out of the car to readjust his tie again.

"You know what?" he said trying to pull away.

She bit back a smile and a comment of how she thought how 'quaint' he looked whenever he wore a bow tie. "You're cute when you get frustrated, dear." Danielle tugged on the short piece of fabric and he reluctantly obliged leaning forward.

"You know what?" he tried again, chin in the air as she retied the whole thing. "I'm just going to stumble on the floor. We both know it."

"Jack, you're just saying that. You know music leads the way to romance."

Finally, they made their way inside to the lively gala in progress. Danielle knew her strategy, one that had been tried and true for a while now – thanks to Nora's 'hints.' Give him a few songs to ignore; wait until he's had a chance to hold one drink – never touching it, just carrying it as he walked the perimeter of the room; then wait for that one perfect song. What Danielle loved about Arthur's galas was the fact that he always had the band play 'that' song.

"I won't dance," Jack said as the dancing began, "my dear, with you."

Danielle made a face. "It's _merci __beaucoup, _Jack."

"My heart won't let me do what my feet should do," he said giving in to the tug-of-war Danielle initiated. "If I hold you in arms-"

"You will dance."


End file.
